


A Different Kind of Origins

by eternalshiva



Series: Giveaway Prizes - from the 4,444 Followers Giveaway on Tumblr [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen, Implied Cullen x Alistair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 12:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4060108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalshiva/pseuds/eternalshiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ostagar's battle is looming on the Horizon. Duncan arrives after his mission to the Ferelden Circle with two recruits in tow. One of whom Alistair is very familiar with.</p><p> <br/>Anon-omis: beta.</p><p>ultimateangst's 1000+ word prompt from the 4,444 follower giveaway on tumblr. Also, a shout out to elfrooted's little universe of Cullistair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Kind of Origins

**Author's Note:**

> ultimateangst's prompt: Cullen joining Grey Wardens with Amell and Alistair's reaction on this (might or not be any kind of relationship implied). Thank you Anon-omis for the beta.

Despite the afternoon sun the breeze was chilled by the autumn’s wake and Alistair shivered slightly, rubbing his arms with his hands to move the cold out of his gear but it wasn’t working, not really. Metal was stubborn to warm and the leathers were soaking up the sweat on his body; practice with the other wardens was _always_ a thrill. He was still learning new fighting methods that the chantry failed to cover with him for combat against non-mages.

Although it had been over six months, he’d learned a lot. Even found out from other ex-Templar wardens that lyrium was used to enhance his Templar skills. He was already pretty effective as a warrior trained in the arts, but now – he could add a little _oomph_ to his attacks. He was warned though, from the others, not to indulge in the blue potions. They were hard to break free from – the addiction was terrible.

The improved methods would be handy against the darkspawn hiding in the Koccari Wilds. _Rumours_ , according to some, that would be proven wrong soon enough Alistair wagered as the memory of his earlier nightmare still shook him to the core. The Archdemon was not the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, that was for sure.

He narrowed his eyes at the King’s tent, frowning. He wished his half-brother took the threat more seriously and talked less about ‘ _Glory’_ and how ‘ _Heroic the Wardens of Old’_ were.

_“Glorious! You have joined us from Kinolch Hold?”_

Alistair paused, looking into the direction where he heard Cailan’s voice; his brash excitement was almost sickening. No one looked forward to this battle except that disillusioned _fool_. Alistair kept focused on his task, the message tight in his grip; the paper crinkled and rubbed between his fingers as he walked towards the war meeting room… well, the _open space_ war room, if you could even call it that.

How that suggested secrecy and privacy, he’d never know – then again it _was_ better than in the middle of the Majesty’s tent where anyone could come by and listen in through the cloth walls. Alistair grumbled, irked. Being this close to family that didn’t acknowledge your existence was… _uncomfortable._

 _Uncomfortable_ was the only way to describe it really and he’d been reprimanded already for his mouth by Duncan when they’d first arrived here, a few weeks ago.

Cailan had seemed amused by his words which only made Alistair _more_ irked. It was probably why he was asked to deliver this message from the Chantry Mother to the Mage Leader. His peers were practically laughing when they passed on the order to him. Some sort of punishment, or prank, he was sure.

An ex-Templar, of all things, delivering a message to a _mage_. He felt the sting of it, and braced himself for the earful he was about to get; he was sure the Chantry Mother was laughing it up in her tent.

 _Old hag_ .

He rubbed the back of his neck, walking steadily towards the Mage who was meeting with an apprentice inside the decrepit tower. He cleared his throat and was met with a sneer.

“What do you want, Templar?”

“Grey Warden, actually. I never took the vows – “

“Thank the Maker for _small_ miracles.” The mage interrupted him, rudely. Alistair narrowed his eyes but bit his tongue, keeping in the retort wedged inside his mouth.

“I have a message from the Chantry Mother.” He handed over the paper, which the mage promptly snatched from his hands. Alistair took in a deep breath and recited the _Canticle of Silence_ in his head while the mage began his tirade.

_Maker’s Breath, this was going to be painful._

From the corner of his eye, he noticed two people walking towards them in the background; one looked like they were wearing Templar gear and the other was a mage – the robes were long, blue, and the staff they used to walk with was taller than them.

A petite lady, from what he could tell, he could be wrong.

He wondered if they were _back up_ – for whom, though, was the question of the hour. Hopefully not for Ser Cranky here and he hoped the Templar wasn’t going to go on a tangent about… _templary_ things.

It was the last thing he needed, to be honest.

He stuck a finger inside his ear and shook it slightly; grimacing since the noise of the Mage’s rant was starting to irritate him. That particular move didn’t help, the mage only got louder. Alistair sighed and against his better judgement, opened his mouth.

“Yes, yes – I’m sure the Mother found it hilarious to send me to you.”

“I am not at her beck and call, I am a busy man.” The other man spat out the words, which only fueled the fire on the Warden’s side.

“Well this was certainly pleasant; I’m _glad_ we got to chat. I’ll be naming one of my children after you, the _grumpy_ one.” He quipped out of turn and instantly regretted it.

Him and his big mouth… Duncan was going to give him that _look_.

The snort of laughter surprised him. It made him look up over the infuriated mage’s shoulder, who kindly took his leave, muttering about submitting a complaint about him.

Alistair rubbed his neck, sighing.

“One good thing about the Blight is how it brings everyone together.” He grinned, blinked and his mouth fell slightly ajar. Those blond curls looked very familiar, and those amber eyes. “Cullen? What are you doing here?”

“I figured it was you that Duncan was speaking of when he said to find an Alistair.” The Templar chuckled; hand out to greet his fellow brother in arms.

“Do I stand out that much?” Alistair felt his cheeks warm; happy to see him.

“It was more based on the way he sighed, exasperated, and mumbled to himself after – I figured there weren’t too many people with the name who could do that.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

The last time he had seen Cullen… well, it was before he was about to take his vows and nerves had gotten to both of them. Cullen had been one of his closer friends – if he would even describe it as such.

There was a small cough which drew Alistair’s attention away from Cullen. _Oh, the petite mage_. She raised a brow at him, knuckles white from gripping the staff. She looked tired. They both did, in fact.

“This is Amell. She and I were _recruited_ into the Wardens from the Circle. There was a bit of a, uh, blood magic incident. She was conscripted to avoid a tranquil sentence.”

“Blood magic?” Alistair’s eyes widened; he was already weary of mages, and he knew the Grey Wardens would go to any lengths to win but blood magic was crossing a line for him, personally. He frowned.

“Not mine,” she assured, smiled tightly, obviously irritated at Cullen’s explanation. “It’s more along the lines of ‘A friend let me take the fall on his behalf – got me to destroy his phylanctery, betrayed his chantry girlfriend, used blood magic to escape – made a mess.”

“Figuratively or literally?” He chuckled and she smiled, genuinely.

“Both.”

“Some friend.” Alistair snorted and she nodded. _Conscripted?_ He blinked again, something dawned on him.

“Well that explains her,” Alistair looked at Cullen and the Templar shrugged. “What about you?”

“I volunteered to keep her safe and I was discharged from the order as a result.”

“Oho. I’m sure _that_ went over well.” Alistair smirked.

Cullen grinned. “It was a bit of a battle. I was conscripted as well in the end when threats were being uttered. Duncan seems to like being challenged.” Alistair laughed hard.

“You’re not being honest, Cullen." she glared at him. "You pulled out your weapon against your commanding officer, when they were going to put the chantry sister to death and me to tranquility, just for being an associate of the blood mage.” Amell sighed, unimpressed with his humility.

Cullen shrugged, uncomfortable. “Well, the paranoia lately on blood mages in the tower was becoming a bit of an issue with me. I didn’t agree, with the decision. You were not guilty, considering Irving had you investigating for him and you had full permission to do so.”

Amell laughed and Alistair raised a brow, there must be more to the story than Cullen let on for him to raise his weapon against other Templars, he was pretty loyal to the order. He’ll get it out of him later, in private.

“Ex-Templar, then – just like me.” Alistair said to change the subject and winked at the man who had the decency to only pink slightly.

“Great, _two_ ex-Templars.” Amell sighed and Cullen only laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull her a bit into a half-hug. Alistair felt a pang of… something in his gut. They seemed _chummy_.

“It’s not so bad, Amell – Alistair here has great stories to tell, I’m sure, since he left the order several months ago and he is positively _fantastic_ at braiding hair.”

Alistair _flushed,_ stammering when Cullen’s gaze lingered. He recovered, albeit not as quickly as he would have liked.

“French Braids are my specialty and my jokes are great…” Alistair caught Cullen’s withering look and the Warden sighed. “Okay fine. Maybe I’m terrible at jokes.” He grinned at her and the recruit only rolled her eyes, turned on her heels and walked ahead of them. The two men followed after her.

“So, you’re an official recruit then?” Alistair asked, wearily.

“Yes. I hear great things about the Wardens and I can still keep protecting people, mages too.” He smiled. Alistair was a bit breathless as worry settled in and soured his stomach.

“Yes, this is a good place to be, if you’re looking for a cause.” Alistair remarked, eyes back onto the road, following the footsteps of Amell in the distance.

Alistair swallowed, prayed they survived the joining. He could not bear to lose another friend to the rite.


End file.
